"But that's not in Winton," Edna protested.
"Of it, if not in it," Jack Ward assured them.
"Do you reckon you can show us anything new about that old fort, Paul Shaw?" Tracy demanded. "Why, I could go all over it blindfolded."
"Not to show the new—to unfold the old,"
Pauline told him.
"That sounds like a quotation."
"It is—in substance," Pauline looked across her shoulder to where Mr. Allen sat, imparting information to Harry Oram.
"So that's why you asked the old fellow,"
Tracy said. "Was that kind?"
They were rounding the slender point on which the tall, white lighthouse stood, and entering the little cove where visitors to the fort usually beached their boats.
A few rods farther inland, rose the tall, grass-covered, circular embankment, surrounding the crumbling, gray walls, the outer shells of the old barracks.
At the entrance to the enclosure, Tom suddenly stepped ahead, barring the way. "No passing within this fort without the counter-sign," he declared. "Martial law, this afternoon."